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“Our…dad is in town.” Sabine shook her head and looked down, disappointment clouding her features. She sucked in a breath and touched Nikki’s arm. “It’s probably nothing.”
Yeah, she’d said that.
And it was probably nothing.
Although, the last time his dad had been in town, André had disappeared from her life without saying a word.
* * *
ANDRÉ
“I can’t believe you’re here.” He sounded a lot more relaxed than he felt. André pushed a hand through his hair and turned to face his father.
A man he hadn’t seen or spoken to since he’d made the worst decision of his life.
His eyes darted to the clock on the wall.
Shit.
He didn’t have time for this.
“I was hoping we could get some dinner. Maybe catch up,” the older man said.
André stared at him, truly not believing what he was seeing.
But there he was, in flesh and blood.
René Debois was in a charcoal suit (because he was always in a suit), with a white shirt. His gray hair was a little long but still stylish, slicked back in a way that older men could get away with, clean shaven.
And standing in my apartment?
“I still don’t understand,” André said. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
They hadn’t spoken much since that night. A phone call a year seemed to be the new normal and André was okay with that. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the man anymore. He just hadn’t made an official announcement or anything.
Didn’t think he needed to.
René let out a light, incredulous laugh. “I can’t stop in and see my children every now and again?”
André’s lip curled and his gut handed him another red flag.
“You live four thousand miles away. It’s a little hard to believe you were in the neighborhood.”
René jutted his chin out and put his hands on his hips. Indignant.
André crossed his arms, hugging them to his chest as he looked at him,reallylooked.
He wasn’t wearing a tie. Which wasn’t a huge clue except that he had also unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
He was upset.
“Shouldn’t you be busy this time of year?” André asked. He hadn’t followed the Premier League in years, for obvious reasons. But he was fairly certain that the season started again in August. His dad should not onlynotbe in Chicago, but he should also be oblivious to the existence of anyone outside of his players.
René’s jaw firmed and he looked away. He wandered over to the bookshelf in the living room and scanned the spines.
And that’s when it clicked.
“They fired you,” André said.
